


let me hear you

by firef1ybrainz



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Embarrassed Killua Zoldyck, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, No Smut, Post-Chimera Ant Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28786869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firef1ybrainz/pseuds/firef1ybrainz
Summary: Gon, despite his simple-minded nature, always thought of love as having sound. Sometimes it was a warm, clear violin solo from Mito-san or sophisticated piano, flowing like river from Kurapika.Killua was an almost inaudible melody of a cello. But it’s not as quiet as Gon thought it was.
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	1. pre-chorus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’d smell my clothes and think of you  
> close my eyes and hope that you'll materialize  
> i think i’ve got problems  
> i think i’ve got problems, babe  
> i think i’ve got a problem with you
> 
> \- will joseph cook, habit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey besties :D i’m mallory and i’m super new to ao3 so please don’t expect much from me lawl. anyways i wrote this bc i had a hc that gon had synesthesia (feelings for sounds) and the thought never left my head so here we are. anyways enjoy ig
> 
> also no, this work is not gonna be a smut please don’t let the title mislead you i beg

Gon always thought of love having sound.

Anyone who has spent at least five minutes with the bubbling boy of sunshine was well aware that gon's love language was touch. Whether it was a casual hand on the shoulder or a tight hug, Gon thrived when touching or being touched. For his simple-minded, impulsive self to think that way about such a thing was absurd to his best friend since forever, Killua.

"Eh?! How is it weird?" Gon asked him this when they were having breakfast at the first cafe they found in the city they were visiting at the time.

"Well, you've always been stupid," Killua playfully flicked at Gon’s forehead, causing a small whine from him. "So it's strange you have this metaphorical sorta mind set about this."

Gon admitted he wasn't the brightest when it came to equations and word problems, but if anything, he was a genius when it came to being people-smart. Gon could effortlessly make the people he talked to at ease, and he could do it so well it almost made Killua envious. But it was also a matter to laugh about for him; Gon had always been the opposite of him, for they were like sun and moon, or yin and yang. 

"Mito-san always told me people express love towards their family and friends in different ways," Gon said as he perched his head upon his palms. "Maybe that's how I started thinking that way." he sighed as he watched Killua play with a piece of bacon with his fork nonchalantly.

Killua, having grown up in his harsh conditions that was supposed to mold him like clay into a flawless assassin, didn't know what love felt, looked or sounded like. To him, love was torture, chains and dark red bruises. To be spared or left alone in the Zoldyck mansion was considered a blessing. Never was he spoiled with comfort and assurance and that fact alone drove Gon mad.

Gon heard Killua’s love as something of a quiet cello, a thin string blowing in the wind. It’s as if his love wasn't there at all, as if it wasn't supposed to be there.

It was always there in the background, not wanting to draw attention to itself. However, Gon was blessed with sharp eyes and he was never oblivious to the hints. He noticed how when they shared their signature high-fives, Killua would be the last to reel back. He noticed how he slightly leaned into him when they sat next to each other on the train to another city. He noticed how when he complimented him on something, Killua would flush red for a moment and after stating how embarassing he was being, mutter a small "thank you". 

It wasn't fair, Gon thought, that his love was nurtured like a young flower and he was able to grow up knowing was true love was. Killua on the other hand, was taught a disoriented and dangerous love, only knowing touch as something brutal, something meant to shatter him like glass.  
Gon was able to sink into an ocean of love and comfort and soft caresses for his entire life. Killua was left sitting on the shore, silently watching and wanting.

It angered Gon to no end, making him spend several sleepless nights staring at the ceiling of their hotel room, thinking of ways to try and help the precious boy he'd promised to travel the world with. Occasionally, he'd look over to him, watching Killua sleep lightly, yet deep enough to not notice him with a soft smile.

"Gon," he whispered one night, slightly flailing his arms about in his sleep as Gon fought the natural instinct to yell out of surprise. Gon watched with shallow, surprised pants of air as Killua slowly smiled, then turned away so that Gon couldn't see his face anymore. smiling brightly, Gon buried himself underneath the blankets, letting a fraction of the moonlight peak in through a small opening of the comforter. Gon slept an idyllic, dreamless sleep that peaceful night as wind rippled in through the room's open window.

Killua’s love has always been there, playing faintly like a cello so broken it's shocking it's still able to carry a distinguishable melody. But the cello is still there. The melody is still playing.

Gon wanted to see if it could get louder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consider this a prologue i spent 2 days editing in my notes. fun fact i was supposed to publish this to wattpad but decided to move here bc why not. anywho thx 4 reading lols


	2. the chorus starts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the chances of having a quiet moment with gon are low, but never zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello besties i am SO sorry it took so long for me to update but uh if u want to see what else i’ll write after this then deal w it ig 😀 prime time for writing is 2am in the morning lol anyways *throws chapter* take it

Warmth never belonged to Killua. From the second he was born into the world, he was a frozen husk, devoid of emotion or affection. Drawn in sharp angles with bold black pen, Killua’s body was carved in a way to never be warm.

At least, until he met Gon.

Gon was blinding. He was bright like the blazing sun, explosive like crackling ember, lingering like hot smoke. His laugh was like birdsong and his smile aligned like a constellation. He was kind, sociable, vibrant and charming. He was light. For every year Killua’s known him, he’s always been light.

But Killua was darkness. He was never easy-going like Gon — he was upright, reserved, quick and quiet. He was born to be that way. It didn’t upset him that Gon would always outshine him, that he’d be stuck in the shadow of his radiance. No, what troubled him was that the light was always there.

No matter what Killua did, Gon would be there beside him. He’d be there smiling like the starlike being he was with an outreached hand towards him. Why was he here? Why was he still here? Was he still interested in me? Did he still like me? He didn’t deserve Gon, right? 

“Why are you still here?” Killua whispered, feeling his breath on his hands, in the dark of the night. The room is still, deathly still with silence, yet Killua feels like he’s spinning. His head spun and spun like a tabletop as he pondered — why was Gon still with him after two years?

He could feel daybreak crawling up his back as yellow light consumed the hotel room wall. He closed his eyes and sighed deep within his lungs. 

Morning will come soon.

—

It was the late afternoon when Killua was awoken by the cry of birds and the placid sunshine caressing his conscience awake. The room, identical to last night, was stationary and noiseless. He set his feet on the cold floor, letting the warm sensation of the sky lit like day seep into his body like a teabag, at least for a brief while of time. 

But in a space shared with Gon, quiet never lasted. It wasn’t long before a figure slammed aside the bedroom door. It revealed an uneasy Gon with dishevelled hair and pancake mix splattered onto his face like paint on a canvas. Although, Gon’s face, carved with intense accuracy by the gods with golden water and roaring fires — was already stunning as it was as a plain canvas. There was no need for paint, Killua thought to himself.

“Killua!” Gon whined, holding a mixing bowl in a pair of shaky arms. 

The white-haired boy sighed and turned towards his troubled friend. “What did you mess up so early in the morning this time, Gon?”

Gon puffed up his cheeks, red with embarrassment. “I was trying to make pancakes for you, sleepyhead,” Gon defended. He possessed a hard stare that lacked malice, which made Killua laugh to himself. “You forgot you’re shit at cooking, didn’t you.” He laughed, sauntering up to Gon to wipe off a lump of the mix off his tanned cheek. 

Gon smiled under Killua’s hand, chuckling to himself under his breath. Nothing had changed over the years. Gon went ahead charging like a bull with big oak brown eyes ablaze with determination. He would relentlessly make decisions on a whim in hopes to get what he wants. Killua stood back every time, watching with intense sapphire blue eyes. Without fail, he would wait for the storm of his friend’s resolve to pass every time it happened. Once it passed, he’d collect the remains of Gon’s mess, only to keep them. They were like shrivelled, crumpled pieces of a ripped child’s drawing, which he would clasp against his beaten chest.

With thick, firmed hands, Gon reached out to hold Killua’s stiff, frigid hand against his warm face, leaning into the feeling of hot on cold. It was nice, it was simple. It felt natural; this contact between them. “I’m sorry, Killua,” Gon apologized, watching Killua’s white eyelashes flutter as he blinked, like bundles of snow falling off the leaves of an evergreen tree. He then watched as Killua’s cheeks faded into strawberry red; the cheeks he had been wanting to hold and kiss for forever.

“It’s — I-It’s fine, Gon,” Killua’s voice wavered as he veered from Gon’s gaze. It was a terrible thing, to be honest; how Killua would fall vulnerable to the twinkle in Gon’s eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll come downstairs and help you, just, let me do my thing first please.” He smiled to the side, avoiding eye contact as Gon grinned his terribly big grin and skipped out of the room.

When was Killua ever not weak for Gon?

The boy proceeded to wash his face and brush his teeth quick enough to be downstairs within five minutes. He stood beside Gon, squinting in disgust at a pile of burnt lumps of brown dough, barely discernible. The kitchen reeked of smoke and flour lingering over the two boys like a heavy blanket. “You’ve fucked this up in a way I’ve never imagined,” Killua chuckled, shoving Gon off to the kitchen table, the heat of Gon’s back under his shirt lingering for a long minute on his cold hand.

“Wow, thanks,” Gon rolled his eyes sarcastically at the assassin as he plopped down on a wooden chair, smooth and warmed by the sun shining through a nearby window.

Killua scoffed a quick retort before tossing the miserably failed attempts at pancakes into the trash. He settled a pan onto the stove, pouring a small amount of oil. He watched as the blue fire of the stove lapped its tongues at the bottom of the pan, similar to how the tall grass on the lush, vast hills and mountains of Whale Island would quiver in the gentle summer winds. He spilled in some of the pancake mix, which might be the only thing Gon succeeded in making that morning.

He and Gon would run up the hills and then roll back down laughing as loud as they could. After tumbling down the hills, they’d lie on the peak in relaxed silence, covered by the dark blue veil of the midnight sky, words swallowed by the abyss of stars, put to sleep by the gentle whispers of the small town below them. It was as if the sky belonged to them in those moments, which almost felt like eternities. It was like the sky trapped them in a dome and the world was theirs for the smallest fraction of time. It was like the entire universe was watching over them and them only. It felt like they were kids again, like they never had to experience near-death scenarios or mature at a frightening pace just to survive.

He flipped a pancake.

During the moments they spoke for an instance, it was about listless trivia about various things, or Ging, and sometimes about the Ants. They talked about what the King might’ve looked like. They talked of tall, curling horns, ominous eyes with an evil glint and sharp fangs dribbling with poison. Very rarely, they talked about the one-sided quarrel of Gon and Pitou. The conversations never lasted for a long time though. Killua didn’t want to hear Gon apologize again. 

He flipped another pancake, the sizzle of the light golden brown crust causing Gon to hum happily from the table as he listened to their portable radio.

During those nights, they were unafraid. The world didn’t matter and everything revolved around them in their dome of stars on the hills of Whale Island. Every one of those nights, Gon never failed to smile and Killua never failed to admire. Nothing made Killua happier than Gon’s gleeful laugh.

Little did he know when Killua wasn’t admiring and was watching the stars glitter, Gon was the one admiring. The sky reflected in his eyes like a mirror, stars swirling like whirlpools in his irises (he swore if love really was music, what he felt for Killua could cause someone to go deaf)

Killua flipped another pancake as he listened to Gon’s feet knocking gently against the legs of the dinner table.

As he brought the pile of improved cooked pancakes to the table, he let his mind wander for an instant. It was bizarre, he had noticed, that Gon would be so physically affectionate and sweet with him so very often, yet he’d keep to himself and never give back. Gon was giving him more than he could ever deserve in a lifetime and he wasn’t giving back anything in exchange. It didn’t feel right, almost illegal. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to show affection back, far from it. He wanted to trace every curve and corner of Gon’s face, savouring the natural warmth of his body dripping like melted candle wax onto his fingertips. He wanted to curl up into his chest under the blankets, listening as his breaths evened out and watching as the moonlight caressed his face in all the right ways to make him look ethereal. He wanted to bury his face into the crook of his neck, which always looked comforting in a strange manner. He wanted to hold hands, even for a minute, and trace the soft skin of his palm with his thumb. He wanted—

“Killua?” Gon called out to him. Killua yelped, snapping out of his lovestruck daze. He noticed he had already eaten three pancakes in a matter of ten minutes. “You okay?” Gon asked, leaning over the table a little bit to take a closer look at Killua, checking for redness in case he was sick (Killua’s cheeks were tainted red to a considerable degree, but not exactly due to a cold or fever).

“Stupid, of course I am,” Killua turned away, sticking his fork into a slab of his pancake. 

“Are you sure? You’re burning up, Killua,”

“I’m fine, Gon, I’m not sick!” Killua exclaimed, spitting his words into Gon’s face. He watched as Gon stared straight into his eyes, as if examining his soul like a doctor to their patient. Gon’s mouth was only a few centimetres away from his forehead. He could feel his breath press against his skin.

Without thinking, Gon got out of his seat and walked over to Killua. He snatched up Killua in his arms, holding him tightly against his chest and with no words started to trudge up the creaky steps. Killua felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if his heart had been frozen over by the coldest snowstorms and refused to beat. His eyes were wide as he kept his shaking hands balled up like a packed snowball atop his stomach. It was almost like he was a kitten being picked up by the scruff, shocked and limp in an instant.

“Hey, Gon, what are you doing—!” He struggled against him, trying to break free from his embrace, yet, said embrace was strong as iron, stubborn like an ox. “I’m not sick, I told you—“

“I know Killua isn’t sick,” Gon replied, refusing to stop holding his best friend despite him resisting. “I know something is bothering him though.”

Gon wasn’t stupid; he knew something was bothering him and he wanted to get to the bottom of it, no matter what. This boy had helped him countless times before, whether it be on or off the battlefield. After all, Gon was only alive because of him. He couldn't even begin to think about how he could ever pay him back for every selfless deed Killua’s done only for the sake of him and his selfish actions. Killua was his forever gleaming, beautiful moonlight, guiding him through pitch-black nights and saving him from the shadows when he got lost.

He adored when Killua’s face flamed red after he said that; he hated how he’d hide behind his hands, hiding from Gon. There was a gorgeous contrast between his bright red blush and his pale white fingers that he found mesmerizing to the eyes. He held Killua so dear and knew with his whole heart that his love for him grew louder with every passing day.

Killua remained silent until they reached their hotel bedroom, Gon’s familiar scent of sea salt and faint grass filling his nostrils. It was the aroma Gon had since the time they met during the Hunter Exam. The scent comforted him, making him feel more at home than the mansion atop Kukuroo Mountain ever did. The fragrance distracted him from the fact that Gon had settled him on the edge of his bed, Gon taking a seat next to him.

Gon wiggled his toes for a few seconds, staring at them like they were the most interesting thing in the world until he finally spoke up, “I know you still have trouble with saying how you feel, which is totally fine by the way. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I also want to help, so if you can, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Killua stared. ‘Gon really is light,’ he thought to himself.

As much as he would like to confide in him and tell him his fears, a part of him was convinced Gon wouldn’t like what he says. He would realize Killua is a terrible friend, terrible at expressing affection and terrible at being normal. 

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen; he was supposed to be in the Zoldyck Mansion, training to kill with no empathy for his victims. He was supposed to lack friends, for they were unnecessary for an assassin like him. He was supposed to give in to his family’s restraints, obeying every order given. 

Killua wanted to shake his head. He didn’t want this help.

“I don’t deserve you, Gon.”

Despite everything, Gon reached out his hand to him.

“What are you talking about? Killua deserves the world.”

Gon clasped both his hands in his own, giving him a gentle kiss on the tip of his round nose. Killua inhaled, taking in the sight of Gon’s close face. Every detail was so apparent to him now; the tiny dimple and collection of freckles on his cheeks were clear as day. His forehead rested against his as they stared into each other’s eyes. Silence had never echoed so loud in Killua’s ears.

Gon continued to intertwine their fingers, never looking away from Killua’s gaze. “You deserve the world, Killua. There’s no doubt about it.” Gon tore his left hand from Killua’s right, confusing the latter. He quickly took it back into his palm, lowering his lips onto his thumb before stopping. He looked back at Killua with concerned eyes. “Is this okay?”

Killua didn’t need a long time to nod his head yes, although with reluctance. Gon’s eyes contained genuine concern, for he was worried he was overstepping boundaries and making Killua upset. He was far from the truth; Killua knew he was safe with Gon, no matter where they were or what they were doing. 

Gon glowed like the majestic star he was, too much for Killua to look at, let alone be around.

But maybe, just maybe, he could let himself be selfish.

Gon slowly kissed each of his digits one by one, sending shivers down Killua’s spine with every peck. Gon gradually trailed a kiss towards his palm, caressing the dips and arches of his hand with his thumb. Killua held his breath for what felt like an eternity, only exhaling once Gon looked back into his eyes.

“Your hands are really soft, you know that?” Gon whispered, pressing his lips to his cheek next, almost causing Killua to yelp in shock. “You’re like a groomed cat,” he giggled, so quietly it was akin to silence. He stayed there for a moment, holding his firm nose against his smooth cheek, basking in the happiness he felt.

Killua wasn’t uncomfortable with his advances and it was all he’d ever wanted. He was one step closer to erasing the rememberings of knives on Killua’s skin, shackles clamped around his wrists, needles puncturing his limbs. It made him cringe imagining all the anguish the snowy-haired boy went through his entire childhood. Killua of all people didn’t deserve any of that.

In a swift motion, he draped his arms around Killua’s neck and flopped down onto the bed, taking the flustered boy with him. He heard as Killua took a shaky inhale as Gon tangled their legs together, sighing a warm puff of air onto his collarbone. “Let’s rest for a bit, okay? Then you can tell me what’s wrong.”

As Gon relaxed, Killua’s mind coiled. Should he give in? Should he stay still? Gon was so warm, like a campfire you would circle with friends at midnight and tell ghost stories with. He radiated love and compassion, so much it made Killua spiral. It sent him in a daze; every compassionate smile hypnotized him more and more.

Killua buried his face in Gon’s chest, encircling his arms around his waist and holding him close. Gon beamed in delight, stroking his pure white locks of hair, cherishing the way Killua let out a small purr every time he ran his hand through. 

“Is this okay?” Killua murmured into Gon’s neck, suddenly feeling insecure. But Gon knew what Killua meant by his doubt.

“Yes, yes, of course it is.” Gon whispered back to him, hugging him closer. 

Gon thought of love as a sound, playing in  
different volumes, tones and pitches with unique instruments from every person. Killua was a quiet cello, playing a low melody beneath other people’s music. In moments like these, the silence boomed in his ears, surrounding him. Gon adored it; the sound of his quiet kindness. 

“I love you, Killua. I love your music.”

The scent of sea salt and grass. Warm on cold. Yin and Yang.

Gon learned to love the quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u bookmarked this, thx for sticking around for one month! i’m still a lil confused abt ao3 and improving as a writer so i appreciate the support^^ consider this a late valentine’s day gift now goodbye *dives into the ocean*


End file.
